


In This Cruel & Lonely World

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-09
Updated: 2007-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Uncle Vic's Death ; A past reflection causes Michael to ponder his need for Brian, after Uncle Vic has passed away... A "filler" scene for what we never got on the show...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_  
  
**Novotny House - Michael's bedroom  
Michael.... Gazing At A Reflection Into The Past...**   
  
_

The first time Michael saw the strange boy, with the light brown eyes and honey hair, he was in his bedroom, reading his comic books. He knew it was a different sort of situation, because almost nothing and no one made him put away a new issue of X-Men, Fantastic Four or Captain Astro.

Except for his mother, walking by his bedroom door as she came down the hallway, knocking slightly on the open paneling.

Michael flinched in reaction, ready to hide whatever he was doing.

"Lights out in ten minutes, Michael!" Debbie Novotny's slippered feet scuffed along the hall, back to her own bedroom where she was gathering dirty laundry, then dividing up clean clothes.

"Okay, Ma!" Michael called back out, relieved to know she wasn't coming in. Not yet, at least.

He scooted back amongst his pillows, along the twin headboard, knees bent and feet flat on the mattress. Before he settled back in, he reached over to open his nightstand drawer, digging around for his flashlight. It was actually for "emergency" purposes, like the lights going out in a thunder and lightening storm, but to Michael... this moment WAS an emergency, once he had to turn out his bed lamp for bed. He was barely halfway through the comic, he couldn't go to bed without knowing if the Bad Guy got away, continued in the next issue, or if he was defeated. Michael'd be up all night unable to sleep.

At exactly nine minutes and forty-eight seconds past from the time his mother knocked, Michael shut off his light, rolling over to scrunch his body under his thick Captain Astro comforter and the thin sheets beneath. He tucked both the flashlight and the comic book under his pillow. He placed his right hand, palm up, under his cheek and shut his eyes to feign slumber. His back was facing the doorway.

When almost twelve minutes, in total, had passed, with no sign of his mother, Michael thought he was in the clear. Then he heard the creaking of the hall floorboards, his mother coming back before she made her way down the flight of stairs. The hinges squeaked as she opened the door fully, never one to care much whether Michael had just fallen asleep or not.

Debbie used the light from the hallway to illuminate her way around her son's messy bedroom. Typical, with his frazzled mind and energetic body. She carried a small wicker basket on her hip, picking up whatever she found not in Michael's drawers, folded neatly and in their proper place, or closet, on hangers. When she was done with that task, she went to organize his cluttered desk, glancing over the homework he'd left out for her to peruse. She clicked on the overhead lamp... checking his spelling words, the calculations of his math, the timeline he made for history class and lastly the mini 1,000 words or less paper he had to write for science. She would make changes where she thought he did wrong or needed improvement. She always made sure Michael got up early enough to make those needed corrections before heading off to school.

By the time she made it over to Michael's bed, she was too tired to do much else, but kiss him goodnight and tuck him in further. She'd kiss his brow, whisper **_"I love you"_** s, ruffle his shaggy head and then be on her way out. She'd close the door as she left, but not completely, forever cautious about watching him sleep, making sure he took long and deep inhales of breath.

When Michael had heard the footsteps disappearing down the stairs, he flipped over, splaying his body open in anticipation of getting back to his exciting comic issue. As he heard the foot drop onto the last step, the slippered feet now scuffing the hardwood floor of the living room, he quickly dug out his flashlight and comic... then he stopped suddenly... hearing another noise unfamiliar to him.

Not unfamiliar in the sense that he'd never done it himself, because he had, right in this very room. But that he wasn't sad at all. Why would he hear crying? Not only crying, but someone trying NOT to cry?

Michael was on alert, having only one window in his bedroom and the only light coming from the hallway, shadows and dark corners came at him from all sides of his bed. His still, somewhat, cluttered room didn't allow for seeing behind things and he couldn't tell what could be lurking in his closet with all his toys shoved in there. Not even if someone had snuck under his bed.

He put his comic book down, not back under the pillow. Once he found this noise he'd be going right back to his comic. He slid to the end of his twin bed, crab-crawling on his hands and feet to sit Indian style. He gazed around his room, hoping to hear the noise again, but he didn't. So he flicked on the flashlight's power. He started from his extreme left, near his bedroom door, then slowly came around, along his closet and the desk at the end of his bed and then up near and around the right of him, under his window.

Nothing. No sound. Not anything.

He'd found rats before, silly bugs that somehow entered his home, but... was it possible to hear them "crying" like a real human being? He giggled, shaking his head as he pinched his lips together and shut off the stream of light. He closed his eyes, bowing his chin to his puny chest... then the sobbing began again, with added hiccuping.

This time Michael got up out of his bed, running to his window. He felt around the frame. No draft. No breezes. No trees outside high enough where the branches scraped the glass. All he could see was darkness, tall, willowy street lamps lighting the neighborhood and the distant city lights of The Pitts. Just nothing.

He turned to lean weakly on his window sill, arms folding over his belly in contemplation. What was scaring him was he HAD known that kind of emotion. The need to cry out in sadness, even the need to hold back to show how much of a pussy he wasn't, to never let the other person know how weak and sensitive he was to their annoying pesterings. Bullies and older kids at school... sometimes even his own mother, who he knew loved him beyond anyone else in this world.

Michael stood, calm and content, waiting again... because he knew the sound wasn't over. He felt that it was barely just beginning. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to fall on Captain Astro curtains and glass, a portion of the window pane, itself.

... and it returned, but as Michael slowly lifted his eyes he realized that he wasn't IN his own home anymore... he was probably where the sound was coming from... what scared him more than anything else was WHY? Why could only HE hear this sound?

He pushed off the window sill, which actually became a cinderblock wall. The wall shaped around him in the darkness, forming some type of room... in a low laying area, like underground. A basement, maybe? He could hear the sniffling and crying better here... probably able to find the source, too. He turned on his flashlight, casting direct light on where he was.

Cement floors, dirty... an old water pump, churning... a water heater, ignited... metal shelving that held everything you don't need anymore upstairs in your home, that you throw downstairs. Old paint cans, tools, lawn equipment, Christmas decorations, toys from when you were younger... bed frames you no longer use, used furniture... a washer and dryer...

... and in the corner... a boy... a boy about Michael's age or slightly older. Michael didn't know how he could tell the person was a boy... he just felt it come over him. Michael realized he'd been shining the flashlight directly ON the boy, which was kind of rude, but then... was HE really visible to the boy wherever he was?

The boy had his back to the wall, knees pulled tight to his chest, head bent over his knees... the boy held his arms to his body as if he'd been beaten... both mentally and physically. Not that he couldn't stand, he was just weak and tired... tired of everything he had to face alone, by himself...

Michael knew THAT, not to the severity of what this boy felt, but... mentally and emotionally torn to pieces. He tried to take a step, but couldn't go far. Michael dropped his flashlight and it rolled across the floor.

The boy perked up his head, thinking someone else was down here with him... and he quickly stood up, plastering his back to the wall in fright.

Michael watched the boy... saw him for the first time... the stringy, honey brown strands hanging over his brow, the flushed, moist face from tears and the sparkling wet eyes widening in fear... Michael wanted to approach, but he couldn't... somehow the flashlight had rolled from Michael's world into the boy's...

They both looked down and watched the flashlight roll toward the sneakers the boy was wearing.

The boy bent to pick up the object, making sure it was real, then turning it on to shed some light in the room he was in. He shined the light in his face for a few minutes, feeling the tiny bit of warmth from the heat of the bulb.

That was when Michael saw his eyes... those really bright brown eyes, with their dilated pupils... and just as quickly as he'd seen the features... the light was moved...

Over in the corner, next to some old furniture was a pile of mattresses...

Michael's eyes followed the stream of light to where the boy was figuring out where to lay his head for the evening. It hurt. It truly hurt Michael in his gut to watch the boy decide to curl up on these dirty, used mattresses, simply to get away from whatever, or whomever, had beaten him. He didn't even have a blanket... to lay on... or to slip over his shivering body. He was dressed in well-worn jeans, a t-shirt and his sneakers, but this basement would get colder as the night wore on.

Michael stepped backward... wondering if he could step back into HIS world, grab a blanket... and quickly rush back here... just like what happened to the flashlight... but when he leaned on the wall, feeling the chill to his own back, the next time Michael opened his eyes... he was in his room again...

His body sagged, wanting desperately to go back... return to that basement to see if the boy would be warm for the night.

Had he eaten? Did he need medical attention? Was he even going to be able to fall asleep? Where was his mother and father? A sibling? Anyone? Was he loved? Did he live in that basement? Did someone he know beat him, smack him around?

Just too many questions and not enough answers...

With a heavy ache to his heart, Michael climbed back into his own bed, laying in the direction of the way he'd seen the boy lay down... as if he were spooning him, able to reach out and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, even bring him close to his chest. He closed his eyes tight, then tighter, wishing himself back... all the way back... until he was sound asleep...  
   
Not even aware that he still was left unsure of if the Bad Guy was still alive or dead... somehow that didn't seem to matter much anymore...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the years went on, Michael dreamed of the young boy... always ending up "saving" him in some manner. In his fantasies, he made the boy strong, able to defeat the "evilness" that plagued him. So they were almost like Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad... Michael preferring to be the latter.

The year he was turning 14, he saw the boy for a second time... no longer a dream, but a reality. In church, no less. On a Sunday.

Michael and his mother were seated in their usual pew, somewhere near the front, almost in the Father's pulpit. Debbie adored her Catholicism, often it being the one comfort she could count on. Michael was always bored out of his mind, listening to the sermon as if it played on a broken record.

The profound words of the day were just being spoken, when the spring action of the side door slammed the paneling shut against the winds picking up outside. A newcomer to the flock stood, holding a pastel red hat to her head, making sure her conservative matching dress skirt only showed enough leg below the knee to not be a true "sin". Behind her stood a lanky young man, dressed casually in a nice pair of trousers and a white polo shirt.

Michael kind of smiled, knowing exactly what "boat" the boy was in. Michael was going to wear his Khakis, too... with a light blue button-down shirt, but his mother wanted him to dress a little more formally for church today. They were going to a church function after this... where food was involved. A sit-down meal, more likely, in an expensive restaurant... since a picnic would have been better without the necktie.

The Father welcomed his newest member, from his podium, then waved his hand over the pews to show she could take a seat anywhere she liked.

The woman had to almost drag her son behind her, as he clearly didn't want to be here.

Michael couldn't help watching the young boy his age. Michael's mother kept giving him the "eye" to not stare, but it was difficult. He couldn't help feeling that they were two boys kind of trapped in their mother's "religious webs", both NOT wanting to be here. He thought maybe he'd seen the boy around school, but he could be mistaken. Not many wanted to be his friends, so he pretty much stayed a loner. He didn't want to leave a bad impression, so he hoped if he stared long enough he could catch the boy's eye... and wink or smile in that **_"I know what you know. I feel what you feel."_** kind of way.

The woman went all the way behind the first set of pews, then had the audacity to come UP the aisle while the Father was saying his words and allowed the choir group to sing their hymns. She was deciding to take the first front pew she saw space on, making sure her son was right behind her. Her white gloved hand reached for the boy's trim wrist. Before she even sat down or moved into the pew, she bowed and said a private muttered "grace" to Her Lord, making the sign of the cross over her chest. She waited for her son to follow her lead, after he did... with a heavy sigh of annoyance... they took their seats.

Mother and son were on the same side of the church as Michael and his mother, a few slots down on the bench.

Michael knew his mother never sat them in the first pew because as much as being close enough to God the seating brought you, you were far enough away to not let it be known how much you wanted Him to "favor" you above all others. Debbie made a noise under her throat at the way the woman just... barged in and took a front pew as if she'd owned the joint. Michael watched his mother grimace and mumbled her swear words under her tongue. He couldn't help but chuckle, which made the young boy turn to look at him over his shoulder. Michael waved, but then his mother swat at him to pipe down with the laughing. He rolled his eyes and soothed his own sore arm, while catching the boy's glance again.

This time Michael was able to see the whole face and he... blanked... went numb and quiet. He kept rubbing at his arm because that was all he could do as stunned shock settled into his body.

When the clouds moved outside, allowing brief sunlight to pass over the stained glass windows high up on the church's walls, Michael was shown the true hair color of the boy... and then his eyes alight with their interesting, yet familiar coloring.

It was the boy... the boy he had that strange night with all those years ago, when Michael had imagined the cold basement. Now, the boy was older and... could Michael say it? More beautiful then in his dreams, in the foggy haze of fantasy...

Michael gripped the pew on the sides of his knees, nodding his head toward the boy in acknowledgment. He mouthed the word _**"Hi"**_ and was able to convey that he had been dragged along with his Mom, as well. What Michael hadn't expected was the shock of a quick smile, the way the head shook to make the bangs sweep off his pale forehead.

The boy turned to his side, facing his mother's left, but really... facing Michael, watching him react in silly ways to what the Father was doing and saying... often joking that Michael was falling asleep... how boring this moment was... etc, etc, etc.

Michael was doing all that he could to make the boy smile again, but instead it worked all too well... and the boy laughed, hard and out loud. Michael's eyes widened in fear for the boy, thinking the mother might be the one who beat him, but all she did was threaten him with a slap of the back of her hand. He kind of puffed his chest out to test her, but she'd never do that kind of violence in front of Her God and Jesus... so he was safe.

In a long, drawn-out forty-five minutes... the sermon was coming to an end and parishioners were standing to wish "peace" to each other and sit back down to hear the Father's closing speech. Like a morality rehash for the rest of the week, until next Sunday.

Michael quickly stood, having picked out who he wanted to wish "peace" to, but found himself being tugged on in the back of his suit jacket. He shook their hands, finding the skin clammy and dry, sometimes cold, the flesh withered and wrinkled. He couldn't shake his own mother's hand and he had no one to his immediate left except for the people in the front pew.

The boy's mother had gone through the line of people who'd been seated with her, bringing her son out to shake hands with complete strangers, making him say the words, **_"Peace be with you"_**.

Michael kind of bit the inside of his cheek, because it sounded like the boy said, _**"Peas... be witch ewe..."**_ He was screwing the wording up on purpose, to see if anyone paid attention to him or just went through those cool Catholic motions of pretending like you cared.

Debbie reached out her hand to take the boy's mother's grip, shaking on a solid bounce then letting go. Michael took the gloved hand in his and thought how tiny her hand felt, even in his own small palm. Strange... that he could not only feel the coldness of her handshake, but that she exuded a certain chilled air, her nose quite high above his head. Michael always shook with two hands, one to do the shaking, the other to cup the joining. The lady was put off by such... informality, turning her back on Michael, smoothing her skirt down as she sat.

Debbie had already shaken the boy's hand and retaken her seat on the bench. Now it was Michael's turn. He shyly offered his hand, tiny smile on his lips. When the boy took his hand he didn't expect to feel such a shock of electricity or intense warmth. Not only that, but the boy was a little shy himself.

"Peace be with you." The hazel eyes gazed at Michael under dark lashes, he spoke softly, almost choking on saying the words correctly.

"No..." Michael realized how nervous they both were, attempting make a good first impression. "... peace be with... YOU..." He gently tugged on the hand, wrapping his second hand around the boy's one. "I'm Michael."

"... Brian..." The boy nodded his head once, looking at their hands. He swallowed down what he really wanted to say, then tried to see if he could have his hand back.

Michael let him go, hiding his hands behind his back. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too." Brian found it odd he actually meant it. He slowly took his seat on the bench, finding himself facing the wrong way, to look over the bench in Michael's direction. "I, uh... I've seen you around school. I'm new here... well, to this school. I've been in The Pitts my whole life..." Was that too much information? He hadn't become friends with a lot of people and that was by choice.

"Really? So have I..." Michael thought it odd they hadn't run into one another, but Pittsburgh was a big city. He realized how Brian wanted to say more, but just couldn't say anything, for fear of making a friend or just looking like an idiot who needed friends. "I think we have one or two classes together."

"We do?" Brian was shocked by this. Did Michael look THAT different in school? He looked better in a suit then he did, that was for sure. "I, uh... my Mom told me there's some- _ **thing**_... a church thing after this... at a restaurant..."

Michael swished his head from side to side, sliding down further along the bench so he was seated directly behind Brian. "Yeah... every month there's one Sunday where the parish gets together. Kind of like a gathering to welcome new people or say prayers for sick family... whatnot..." He reached out to rub his hand over the bare forearm along the bench backing. "... don't worry. The food's pretty good and there's lots of it." He put a hand to his chest. "I'm the one that will feel a bit overdressed."

Brian couldn't help but smile, hearing the way Michael was trying to make him feel comfortable and welcome. "I, uh... there was a soccer game on television I wanted to watch. I was gonna ask my Mom to drop me off at home, but..." He waved his hand in Michael's direction, saying how much he was willing to change his mind if Michael was there.

Michael nodded his head, emphatically, almost agreeing that he would sit with Brian if he wanted him to. Then he realized he wanted to talk, hadn't had many other boys his age to talk with. "I'm not athletic at all, but I love watching any sporting event that has that much passion in it. Like, uh... hockey. I like it better live, though. TV drowns out the instant gratification."

"Yeah... I know what you mean." Brian chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. He'd always been interested in approaching Michael at school, but never found the time. He almost regretted giving up the chance.

"Do you play soccer at the school?" Michael folded his hands between his knees, wondering why he kept wanting to touch Brian, soothe his bare arm or caress him, like his hair or face.

Brian shook his head. "Nah... not yet. Soccer tryouts aren't for another two months or so."

"I bet you're good at it." Michael spoke before he even let his words register in his head.

Brian frowned, looking closely at Michael to see if he was being real. "Why do you say that?"

"Uhm..." Could Michael really tell him the truth? How good his body looked and all that? He shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno... maybe I'm a good bullshitter..."

Brian laughed outright again, this time covering his mouth. "You don't say..." They had more in common then he could imagine. Brian turned curious hazel eyes on Michael and actually thanked God he came with his mother today, of all days.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time Brian came to Michael's home after regular bedtime was a Tuesday night. Debbie was pulling a near fourteen hour shift and Michael was left home alone to babysit himself. He was almost 15 now... able to cook himself dinner and watch out for suspicious types in the neighborhood. Debbie trusted her son to behave and not have anyone over without her permission. But sometimes... there were exceptions...

This was the early years of Brian and Michael's friendship. Brian cautiously spent time at Michael's home, not wanting to overstay his welcome. He knew where Michael's bedroom was and that was enough to get him through the front door. He hadn't truly bonded with Michael's mother yet, but he knew she was a cool lady, not like his own mother.

Brian tried to stay away, especially on those days he really needed to run away from his own family, at those times he couldn't bear one minute more inside his own bedroom or even the basement any longer. Too much reigning down him, pressures and stresses that he didn't need at 14yrs old.

The Novotny house was completely dark, the only light from Michael's window... like a beacon calling Brian to safety. He wiped at his face, under his eyes, picking up rocks and twigs to pitch at Michael's window... thinking the door and doorbell was all too easy and it would wake up any adults who were with Michael.

Michael heard the sounds of dirt being thrown, a stone or two pelting on the glass. He moved the Captain Astro curtain aside to catch sight of Brian below his window. His window pane was painted permanently shut, so he motioned for Brian to come around to the back door, where the neighbors wouldn't see and then tattle-tale on him to his mother.

From the many times Brian was over he often undressed to dress in something warmer... like Michael's clothes for bed. They were almost the same body shape, Michael a little smaller, but the clothes fit Brian perfectly. Michael pulled out the underwear, the sweatpants, the t-shirt and the cotton socks, then made sure he yanked out a large towel for Brian in case he wanted to shower or take a bath, Michael never knew.

Michael raced downstairs, skipping over a few steps, by swinging off the banister railing and wall, then ran into the kitchen. He turned on the lights, not bothering with the porch light. He unlocked, then opened the paneling to allow Brian to come inside. Brian wiped his feet, shrugging out of his jean jacket. He stood toe to toe with Michael. Michael reached out to take the jacket and hug the material to his chest. 

"I'm sorry..." Brian quickly mumbled out, scratching at the back of his head. "I shoulda called you, but..."

Michael placed a flat palm to Brian's heaving chest, getting him to calm down a bit. "Hey... hey... ssshhh..." He shut the back door, resetting the locks and then wrapping an arm around Brian's waist. "... you're here... that's all that matters... m'kay..." He soothed a hand over Brian's back, cautiously respectful of any bruising or anywhere he was hurting.

Brian swung both arms around Michael to envelope him in his embrace. "... thank you..." He could barely get the words out, hazel eyes already filling with unshed tears... except when he was with Michael... in his safe place... Brian drew away, meshing his brow on Michael's forehead, bringing his hands up to cup Michael's rosy cheeks. He loved the lips and the cute button nose, reaching up to touch them with his thumb pads. He often dreamed about them... to get through another nasty night in his own home. But not tonight... tonight Brian needed the real thing...

Michael brought up his own hands to slide along Brian's neck, cupping the sides. "I've got clothes on my bed for you... an' a, uh... towel..." He let one hand slip along the thin chest, over the shirt. "... if you want to shower... clean yourself up..." He tried not to cry, either, knowing whatever brought Brian over was pretty bad, almost scary. The hand on Brian's chest pushed him away a few inches, so they could look eye to eye. "... are you hungry...?" Soundlessly, Michael reached up to scrape the back of his fingers over the moisture on Brian's face, hearing him sniffle and hold back any true sobs.

Brian nodded his head and closed his eyes, allowing Michael's hand to comfort him, the soft touch... the one he was beginning to need more then his own breathing. "... yeah... anything... whatever you're havin'..." He let his arms rest on Michael's shoulders, hands dangling at his back. He could deal with standing here for awhile, pleased he made it out of his house alive and into Michael's arms. Brian clutched at the shoulders, holding Michael a good distance away. "I'll get outta your hair."

As Brian tried to move out of his arms, Michael called him back. "... Hey!..."

"What?" Brian lifted his weary eyes to look directly into Michael's face.

Michael didn't really know what to say, so he simply hugged Brian's jacket to his chest, mainly his heart... and this let Brian know he didn't know what to say to make any of this better for him.

"I know... believe me... I know..." Brian paced back to Michael and bashfully kissed his cheek, holding their faces together as he inhaled Michael's warm scent. Then he was gone, flying up the stairs.

Michael moved to hang the jean jacket over a kitchen chair, then began to diligently prepare the supper he'd decided to cook for himself. He was happy being alone, but nothing took the place of being alone with Brian... not even the newest issue of Captain Astro he'd set aside to read tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Brian came back down after his shower, he was a new person. Gone were the tears and the sheer exhaustion. He was refreshed and hungry, eager to spend the rest of the night with Michael and only him.

Michael was at the stove, messing with the temperature knobs to regulate the heat of the burners. He didn't even know Brian had returned until he felt the solid arms surround his waist, the chin point resting on his shoulder and the wet hair tickling the side of his face. Michael laughed settling his back to Brian's front, clasping a hand on Brian's arm across his upper torso. "One or two burgers?"

"How many you having?" Brian stepped back, latching onto Michael's shoulders to massage them lightly.

"Two... maybe... we could split the third one, if you think you're hungry but you might get full from one."

Brian nodded his head, liking that plan of attack. His hands slid down to Michael's slim hips, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "Can I help?" He really wanted to keep busy, not stand around twiddling his thumbs.

"Sure... uhm..." Michael used the spatula to point out things around the kitchen. "... you wanna cook or set the table for our meal...?" He seriously already knew what Brian wanted.  
   
"Me man." Brian pounded on his billowed chest. "Me... like fire... grrrrr..." He growled appropriately, then bent his head to nibble at Michael's neck.

Michael squealed and dodge out of the way, handing off the spatula. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Alright, Neanderthal Kinney..." He backed away to move toward the refrigerator, pulling out all the condiments they'd need. He'd been with Brian long enough now that he could almost predict what he'd want on his burger, pretty much everything he ate, too. Michael even knew how Brian liked to take his coffee, when they had some, which wasn't often. He went back for lettuce and a single tomato. Michael began to peel away three leaves, then put the lettuce back. He found a clean knife and cut the tomato into even slices, setting them all on a paper plate. Michael searched inside the fridge again, but this time came out with a jar of Baby Gerkin pickles. When he placed the jar on the counter, he stood at the innards of the fridge, raising an eyebrow. "Anything else you want?" The last thing Michael wanted to pull out were sodas for them both. He dug around to rearrange the top shelf.

Brian glanced over at Michael, admiring the way he appeared, bending over, ass outward as Michael waited for an answer to his question. "... OH! uh..." Brian gave the table a once over, not seeing anything amiss. "... cheese and bacon might be nice... if there's any to spare..."

"Hehehehe..." Michael cracked himself up. "... Ma doesn't know the meanin'. Leftovers are a staple in the Novotny household, as you will find out..." He kicked the door shut with his foot, carrying the cheese and bacon to Brian, setting it on the counter top beside the stove. Michael watched Brian flip the hamburger patties without needing the spatula. "Hmm... figures... show off..."

"What?!" Brian smirked as he turned down the heat, placing the patties on the bottom bun pieces Michael had already set out on paper plates. "Cheese on yours?"

"Of course. AND... bacon, too..."

Brian felt the tiny skip to his heart, loving that Michael was so easily swayed at times. He could hear Michael moving behind him, going over to the pantry to bring over the Ruffles potato chips and the Doritos. This moment felt really nice... and downright sweet. Like they lived together in this house and THIS... was how they always ate dinner. Michael had this uncanny ability to make him feel like he was "home", wherever HE was. "How long is your Mom out for?" Brian took out four bacon strips. One strip a piece, split in two, for their burgers and then one for Brian to eat on its own.

"Until we go to school. Probably later."

Brian took out the cheeses slices, letting them melt naturally on the hot patties. "Am I keeping you from any chores?" He knew how Michael's mother could be sometimes, reasons why he stayed away from this house.

"Nope." Michael shook his head. "Ma gave me the night off." He loved hearing Brian laugh... love it even more to watch him cook at the stove, taking charge. It almost felt like they did this more often. A certain ebb and flow to their routine, like they'd done it for years. Sheesh, even felt like they lived together. "Although..." Michael sat down, placing a soda can near Brian's spot, opening his own can.

"... what?" Brian smiled curiously, wanting to know. "Go ahead. I can take it."

Michael sat on his leg, folding his arms on the table surface to lean on. "I need help with my homework." He quickly moved to open the jar of pickles, then to make sure the bags of chips were open, nibbling on some, and seeing that the table was in order. They wouldn't need utensils, so that was at least something that didn't need to be done.

Brian turned away from the stove, for a second in mild shock. "That's it?!"

"Why?" Michael turned in his chair, grabbing on the back rungs, where Brian's jean jacket hung. "You want MORE? I can find you actual WORK around this place. Like light bulbs needing changing, VCR clocks reset... uh, smoke detector battery changes... oh, an' Ma keeps tellin' me my room needs to be thoroughly cleaned out, reorganized..."

"Jesus Christ!" Brian wiped the heel of one hand over his eye socket. "... tell your Mom to get a freakin' boyfriend!"

"Oh... she's tried..." Michael liked to hear the sound of sizzling bacon... reminded him of weekend mornings, when he was younger. Uncle Vic and Ma would make the most awesome spread for breakfast. "... but they never seem to last..." He knew why. She was too picky and most men didn't want a ready-made-family, especially one with a gay son.

"Straight men..." Brian shook his head sadly. "... always want more. Never satisfied. Blamin' their sad sack of a life on everyone else, but their own sorry asses." He cleared his throat, flipping the strips over with a fork.

"You sound like you speak from experience." Michael was comfortable with the way Brian talked as if he knew everything, because he often did.

"Eh... it's human nature, Mikey." Brian didn't know why, but he'd decided to shorten Michael's name just recently. The way you give inanimate objects names to make you feel as if they're YOURS... for always. "... even gay men, like us, do it, but they do it only to 'fit in'."

Michael leaned his cheek on the hand, resting on the back of the chair. "When did you know you were... different?"

"I dunno. Always." Brian shrugged his shoulders, turning down the stove burners, letting the bacon cool down before he touched the strips. "I've never felt... comfortable in my own skin." He shivered as if a snake crawled up his back.

The action made Michael snicker. "Me, either. I like girls. I've made friends with plenty of them. They're easy to be with, hang around... but they..." He shook his head, recalling those many times his mother forced him to sit next to a girl. "... they just don't DO IT for me..."

"Who does?" Brian leaned back on the counter, next to the stove.

"Huh?" Michael pretended he didn't hear.

"Anyone in particular you think about... as you..." Brian did the motion to match the words. "... jerk yourself off at night?"

"... just at night?" Michael teased, with a silly grin, watching Brian's eyes go a little wide.

Brian had to turn around or allow Michael to see how that answer made him react. He split the bacon up, placing them on all three burgers. Brian nibbled on the end of the fourth bacon strip, walking over their paper plates. The third burger was on Michael's plate, leaving it in Michael's hands to be fair or get the large portion of burger.

Michael pulled out two napkins, setting the third burger down, so he could have room for chips and pickles. He was in a munchie kind of mood, not really a full meal. "I don't really know if it's a specific person..." Michael watched Brian pour ketchup and mustard on his burger, taking a few pickles for himself. Michael reached into the bag of chips to dole out piles for him and Brian. "... could be only one man and how he makes me feel..."

Brian nearly choked on his bite of hamburger. "A MAN?!" He swallowed the chewed piece slowly in shock, pulling out a napkin, wiping at his chin.

Michael softly punched Brian's shoulder joint, watching his face fall into hilarity. He couldn't help laughing, as well. "Shut up! I'm always older in my dreams, for some reason... but I look young, like I do now..."

"Wow..." Brian shoved a whole potato chip inside his mouth. "... that's 'kinky hawt'!!" He took another bite of his burger, asking the question after he swallowed, learning his lesson. "What do you find... attracts you...?"

"Uhm..." Michael started doctoring his burger up, as he munched off chips and pickles. "I'd say it was 'looks'... but they really aren't THAT important..." Hard to say around a beautiful boy like Brian Kinney. "... I, uh... like to laugh and have a good time... being able to talk to him would be cool..." He took a small bite of his bun and pattie so he could converse, without looking like a pig. "We don't have to have everything in common, but... an understanding of what we both feel passionate about would be great..." He always wanted someone to finally comprehend how much he loved comics and superheroes, in general. Brian was just getting to know Captain Astro, but Michael was determined to introduce them fully, soon enough. There was too much else to talk about.

"... am I... attractive... to you?" Brian rolled his eyes, because it sounded ridiculous in his head. Like a girl asking her guy, **_"DO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY?"_**

"Uhm... why do you ask?" Michael didn't know who Brian wanted him to respond as... a best friend or as potential "boyfriend" material?

"I'm curious, is all." Brian averted his eyes, concentrating on his next bite of his burger, then drinking some cold soda.

Michael thought it was a sincere question, which Brian deserved to know the answer to and quickly or should he say... succinctly. He didn't want to get this wrong and screw it up. "You wanna know why I liked you... started talking to you...?" He finally understood what Brian wanted to know. 

Brian put his burger down, almost done. He folded his arms on the table, below his plate. He stared down into the glops of ketchup and mustard, sticking his fingers in them and swirling their colors around. "You don't have to be real honest... just..." He sucked on his index finger, licking off the taste of the blending of the ketchup and mustard. "... sometimes you wonder, you know... why some people are in your life and you... you can't explain why for ONE group... you're, like, the worst person on the planet and they hate you... like, the very sight of you makes them angry..." He let his hand gravitate to where Michael was sitting. "... then in the second group... well, it's like night and day, almost..."

"... that would be ME, huh? I'm in the second group?" Michael liked knowing he was all alone, in one singular group, making Brian feel... "special".

"Yeah. You're the only person IN the second group, but... you get my drift." Brian shrugged his shoulders, taking the last smaller bites of his burger. "I don't know what you 'see' in me, that others can't."

Michael realized they were getting down to serious business now. Fun time was over, whatever had happened before Brian arrived was still plaguing him... winning time and time again. "Well... can I ask you the same question, while I think of an answer for you?"

"Sure... I guess..." Brian bent his elbow and leaned his chin on his hand to gaze over at Michael, watching him eat his food with his fingers. "Your smile... I like the way you laugh, too..." He stretched out his bent arm to touch Michael's hand, his fingers tracing patterns over his skin. "... the more I'm with you, I love making you laugh... making you smile..."

"Brian..." Michael was getting uncomfortable, because this was sounding an awful lot like a dating service moment.

Brian's hand squeezed over Michael's. "No... don't... don't ruin this moment. It's good. Right now. What we have... it's good. It's what I need. It's why I'm still here... or else I'd be..."

"... gone..." Michael turned his hand over, palm up, grasping Brian's hand in his, fingers latching onto Brian's wrist like a lifeline. He wanted to tell him so badly of what he knew, of what he'd seen Brian deal with all those years ago, but he was frightened of freaking him out, scaring him away. Michael didn't know what he'd do without Brian in his life. He let his hand roam upward, along Brian's bare forearm. "... I am you, you are me..."

"What?" Brian didn't quite comprehend what Michael said. He heard it, but understanding it was going to take some time.

Michael couldn't look directly in Brian's face without crumbling. "I see you... in me, in little ways... I see parts of you, that remind me of myself, too... It's odd, you know, to have lived apart these last 13 or 14 years... to find one another and to..." He let his hand slide back to capture Brian's fingers in his own. "... feel like we're one person. I've never had a best friend before, but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this..."

Brian had been staring at Michael the whole time he talked and what frightened him was how that was exactly how he felt, too. Almost to a tee. Scary really. So different, but yet the same in so many ways. It's why he needed Michael so badly sometimes, just to wake up the next morning. Why not seeing him for more then one day made his stomach ache. He sat up a little higher in his chair, Michael already high up since he was seated on his leg... and Brian kissed Michael, not on the lips, but near his temple, sniffing his hair. He noisily slid his chair over, wanting to be closer to explore this fascinating moment of realization. He'd never had a best friend, either, didn't even know how to be a good friend in order to keep someone coming back for more. Yet... here Michael was... and it broke him, made him want to bury himself in Michael's arms and never leave.

"I'm so scared for you." Michael blurted out as he felt Brian's hand slide down from his hair to cup his cheek. It wasn't even hitting him yet what Brian really wanted from him, possibly needed of him, in this moment.

"Why?" Brian leaned his brow on Michael's temple, nudging their faces. He wanted to taste Michael's lips, but didn't know if Michael would offer them as readily if Brian used his eyes to beg, if he pleaded with his own words or if he just took what he wanted.

"That first group of people... I don't trust them to take care of you... like you deserve..." Michael finally turned his sorrowful eyes back to Brian's face, letting him see the moisture collected in his eyes. "... everyone needs love... even you..."

Brian was momentarily stunned, stuck on watching Michael's tears fall. Could he actually be hearing what he'd wanted to hear for awhile now? "Michael, don't..."

Michael swiveled in his chair to face Brian, he slid off his leg, placing his feet on the floor. "... you're so incredible, I wish you knew how much. I'm in awe of everything you do. Even if I've seen it before... it's like magic... like seeing it for the first time..." He brought his hands up, tentatively caressing Brian's cheeks, not sure what to do to convey his emotions. To not go too far where they couldn't come back from the moment, still intact and still best friends. "I don't ever want to hurt you... or see anyone hurt you, ever again... but I know that'll never happen..."

Brian hung his head, suddenly aware that he wanted Michael in a different way... while Michael saw him as this... amazing human being. It was addictive... to want to be that person for Michael, to fulfill someone's dream guy... "... have you ever kissed anyone... other than family...?"

"... no..." Michael shook his head, watching his fingers grow close to Brian's moving lips.

"Would you like to kiss me?" Brian reached out to grab Michael's hips, letting his arms rest on the upper thighs.

"... yes... I think so..." Michael spoke with hesitation to his voice, not sure what he wanted now. His body was going through different feelings at once. He was hot... he was shivering... he was a little nauseous... he felt elated to have Brian so near to him... He leaned over to touch lips to Brian, held for a minute, then pulled back.

Nothing different, then kissing anybody else.

Brian lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head just so, he couldn't help the smirk that began to slip out. "Can **I** kiss **you**?" He rubbed his nose with Michael's, mouth an inch away.

"Sure... but I just..." Michael was going to say they just kissed, wondering if Brian had found something wrong with him, but then Brian's mouth shut him up quickly. The hands were no longer at his waist, but under his t-shirt, about to trail up his sides. Michael wrinkled his brow in a frown, unsure of what he was feeling now, as Brian's lips tried to invade his mouth, the tongue coming out to spread the skin apart. He drew back a little frightened, scared... but his arm hooked around Brian's neck, almost falling into Brian's lap. "Wha-...?" Michael was dizzy, out of focus, possibly going to faint... but he couldn't let go of Brian. "... wha's happenin'..." He turned his face away, letting Brian mesh his forehead on his cheek, then slide down to his neck, he felt Brian nuzzle him there, kissing his skin, licking him. His arm curled about Brian's head, fingers lost in the wet tangles of Brian's hair.

Was this what sex was like? ... lust? Feeling his body wanting another man... a boy... or just because it was Brian?

Brian rubbed the back of his hand over Michael's stomach. "It's us... it's what's between us that makes you unsure of what we actually are..." He sighed, content to feel Michael's fingers in his hair, even the quivering Michael was doing as he touched Brian's face. "... and it's why I can't let you go..."

"... Brian..." Michael shut his eyes, laying his head on top of Brian's cheek.

"... yeah...?"

"... you wanna go to my bedroom...?"

Brian was seriously thinking about sleeping on the couch, high-tailing back home in the morning before Michael woke up... but he couldn't motivate himself to say the words that told Michael any different. They'd go up to his bedroom... and what? "We should really clean the kitchen first."

Michael couldn't help but smile mischievously, tucking his face into Brian's shoulder. "I don't care..." He let his hand roam down, smoothing over Brian's side, then sliding along his torso. He felt the need for skin on skin contact. Their faces and necks, their fingers on fevered skin just wasn't enough... not for Michael, not even for Brian, who was willing to back away.

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. "My little rebel without a cause..."

Michael blushed, wondering who was going to pull away first. He liked it when Brian claimed possession of him, felt... wild and dirty, like he was powerful because he belonged to someone like Brian.

Brian drew away in stages, not wanting to leave Michael's side. But he knew Michael's mother and he didn't want to take the chance she'd come back unexpected and he'd get Michael in trouble. Something about thinking of Michael in the same situation Brian had at his own home... put him in an instant state of disquiet and unease.  
   
They put away everything, they even put away their leftover food in the fridge. They drank the rest of their sodas as they did up what little dishes they used. Then they shut off the lights in the kitchen.

Michael was standing under the archway from kitchen/dinette into darkened living room, Brian slowly walked over to Michael, holding him from behind. He buried his face in the sweet smelling dark hair, leaning down to hide his flushed face in the neck and collar. Michael grabbed for Brian's hands and backwalked them to the stairs. As Michael climbed up two, Brian remained with a foot up on one step, the other still planted on the floor in the foyer.

"You don't have to do this." Brian blinked slowly up at Michael, shaking his drying bangs out of his eyes.

"Do what?" Michael smiled and tilted his head in confusion.

God... Brian closed his eyes in sweet misery. Michael was so damn innocent, there was no way he'd do anything with him to jeopardize what they had. Even if Brian got as hard as a rock tonight... he vowed nothing would happen. He DID honestly need Michael, but he needed him in so many other ways that even one or two of them filled was pure perfection. Brian already had them filled when he walked in the house and Michael touched him... anything else was gravy. "... nothing..." He allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs and into Michael's bedroom.

For the first time in years, the door was closed fully, latch hooked into the doorjamb, but not locked.

Michael liked keeping Brian private, to himself, not letting anyone into their life together. He had found Brian... on his own... he liked knowing how hard he didn't have to work to get here, how easy it was to remain by his side.

Brian leaned against the door paneling, watching the way Michael crossed his arms, grabbing the bottom hem of his t-shirt and took off the cotton fabric. As Michael rounded the right side of the twin bed, he sat down to pull off his own sweatpants, undressing down to his underwear. The briefs remained on as Michael moved to pull back his Captain Astro comforter and matching sheets. He wasn't ashamed of much around Brian, didn't boast or shove Brian's face in the way he adored the superhero. And it was plainly obvious that Michael did idolize or worshiped the comic book character. The posters, the comics... the hard back books, the figurines, the t-shirts and then those ridiculous bed sheets he must have lain on since he was six years old.

Michael made them seem like they were classy... unique... one of a kind, just like their owner. He sat down on the side of the bed, pulling down his alarm clock to set the time for early morning.

Brian decided to join Michael in the half-nakedness sleeping mode, but he wanted Michael to look at him as he undressed... he wanted him to desire his body... him, alone... and want Michael to wish he could touch him, the way he sometimes touched himself. Brian was standing, right next to his side of the twin mattress, using the bed frame to balance himself as he stepped out of the sweatpants, taking off the t-shirt and crawled under the freshly washed linens. Sure the bed was small, but so were their body shapes. Brian turned on his right side, facing Michael's back. He reached out blindly to smooth his hand over the pale skin in the darkness.

Michael looked over his shoulder, glancing at Brian's body length in his bed. He didn't want to look... in case Brian was attempting to hide bruises or red marks on his body. That was Brian's own business and it was enough for Michael to simply let Brian know he was here... whenever he was ready to talk. "Is five a.m okay?"

Brian chuckled, sliding up onto his elbows. "Five AM?! Shit... what is this... military school?"

Michael joined in the chuckling, shaking his head. "Okay... how about six?"

"Better... but not great..." Brian leaned back on the lone pillow, his right arm stretching out to catch Michael about the elastic waist of his underwear. "... c'mon... it's gettin' cold... I wanna be toasty..." He'd slept with Michael before, on top of the bed covers and had been amazed by how warmth just radiated off him.

"... jus'... wait..." Michael plopped his alarm clock on the night stand, swinging his legs up, then being freaked out by how quickly Brian's legs wrapped around his. "... jesus... you're gonna swallow me whole, aren't you?"

"Mikey... this is a twin bed... what do you expect? You... Must... Accommodate..." Brian adjusted them to fit, back to front, tangling their legs to seek heat. He didn't know how they managed it, but they fit together perfectly, spooning this way, with at least two inches to spare on either side of them.

Michael leaned down to draw up the blankets over them, snuggling under like he always did... not recalling quick enough he had someone behind him. "... sorry..." He apologized when he heard Brian suck in a long breath. Stupidly, he sent a hand to grasp Brian's hip, beneath the sheets. He hadn't expected Brian to feel so soft around him, the skin so warm, too. He could almost fall asleep... almost...

... except Brian wouldn't let him. He was too wired up now to sleep. He really wanted Michael to lay on his back or lay facing him. To annoy him, Brian blew on the back of his nape, leaning over to lick the bare flesh, now knowing what Michael's skin tasted like... then he'd blow air on the wet portions. He'd nudge his head in Michael's hair, trying to find a soft place to fall. Brian also didn't know where to put his hands, so they kept smoothing up and down Michael's chest, barely skimming his pre-pubescent nipples... making them go hard without Michael really feeling them to know this was a part of the sexual act between men.

Michael sighed heavily, turning onto his back within Brian's arms. Now he could feel Brian's groin against his bare hip and upper thigh, sensing the bulge growing. "All you had to do was ask me..." He hugged Brian's arm to his chest, leaning his head on the strong chin, taking some of Brian's pillow.

"Would you give me anything I asked of you?" Brian whispered this near Michael's ear, brushing his nose tip over the lobe.

"Oh, well... that depends..."

"... on what..."

"If it's something I want, too... for you..." Michael totally surprised Brian, by not only flipping quick to face him, catching him unawares... but then finding the most ticklish spots on him to attack... changing a very heated, lustful mood into one of pure laughter and enjoyment...

Brian was suddenly on his back, Michael straddling him and tickling him until he almost couldn't breathe. They wiggled so much on the bed together, Michael fell onto Brian's chest with a smacking "whoosh!" and they entangled their bodies in the sheets, half in/half out of them. Michael began to giggle, as well, because Brian decided he deserve the same fate.

After several minutes of wrestling, trying to avoid one another's tickling fingers... they lay panting, out of breath... Michael on top of Brian... Brian spread-eagled on the mattress. Michael's cheek was planted over Brian's rapidly beating heart and hearing it's strength caused him to pick up his torso and look down into Brian's face. Brian was staring up at the ceiling, lost in his own head for a bit, but then he felt dark eyes on him and shifted his hazel irises to lock with near black ones.

Michael planted his hands, under Brian's arms and stared, adoringly, never knowing if anything would look more breathtaking in his life. Probably not. "Can I kiss you again? I need another shot."

Brian tried to swallow his nerves down, wanting to move to clutch Michael, to bring him down to his chest. He behaved, keeping his arms right where they lay. "... yes..." Brian licked his lips, moistening them. "... please..." That last word was a near whisper, barely audible.

Michael lowered himself, twisting and turning his head to find the perfect position to kiss Brian in. They way he had kissed him before was like a brother... the kiss Brian had given him had been more animalistic. Though it had frightened Michael, he couldn't deny he wanted more, why he asked Brian up to his bedroom, where they could be more alone. He brought up one hand to cup Brian's face and jaw, thumb playing on the bottom lip. Michael opened his mouth and closed his eyes... their lips met and Brian carried them through the rest of the journey. Tongues met... and Michael mewled, feeling his dick grow curious, hardening. Brian's right hand rubbed over his chest, playing with his nipples again... and Michael had to break away to catch his breath. He returned to kissing Brian, lips smacking and breaking away, as his shaking fingers cupped the jaw, then slid to the back to cradle the nape of Brian's neck. The hair was soft to touch, feeling like silk on his skin... Michael had no idea to the heightened sensations he'd feel with Brian under him.

This is what Brian wanted... what he needed? He'd been curious for awhile if Michael had truly been interested like he thought. And he was... Michael was only inexperienced in the ways of gay sex. He felt Michael's erection expanding between their lower bodies. Brian was tempted to cup the length, stroke it... watching it cum in his hand. He was afraid that Michael didn't like complete nakedness, that he was still a little shy and bashful, which was cool with Brian. Jerking a boy off in his underwear was actually kind of hot, like a fetish. Brian was about to deepen their kissing, when he felt the first hip thrust against him. Sure it was inevitable, but he hadn't known Michael was THAT ready. He reached around to grab Michael's bottom to keep him still, his other hand filtering through Michael's hair to hold his head steady.

"Whoa... whoa... whoa... ssshhh..." Brian watched Michael curl into himself and sink onto his chest, like the scared little boy he sometimes was. "... don't rush the feeling, huh... take your time... I'm here all night..."

Michael pushed his face into the right breast, closing his eyes in shame. "You know so much more then I do..."

"Hey... that's not a good thing to be, you know..."

"I just..." Michael swung his head upright, slowly picking up his body again. He was unable to look Brian in the eyes, so he watched his hand slide over Brian's naked chest. "... sometimes I..." Then he saw them... the old vanishing bruises against the fresh ones... a slight cut along the rib cage, already bubbled and healed with dried blood. Michael sat all the way up, scooting down to look at Brian's entire chest, smacking Brian's hands away from hiding the truth any longer. "Don't... don't do that for me... I don't care..." He climbed off Brian's body, simply laying on his left side along Brian's right side. Michael blinked slowly, then shook his head. "Wait... I DO CARE... so much... about you... for you..." His hand reached out to touch the fresh black and blue marks. "... does it hurt?"

"... a little..." Brian was holding his breath, unable to withstand this side of Michael... the one who took pain for him. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

"... you're so..." Michael was looking closely at the skin, making sure nothing else was being hidden from his eyes "... you're so brave... and amazing..." The hand that had been flying over Brian's chest, to caress every bruise and scratch mark, moved upward to cup his cheek. Michael shifted to hover over Brian's face, tracing features with a delicate touch, as if he had a piece of porcelain in his hands. "... you're so... beautiful..." He went to bury his face in Brian's neck, wanting just to hold him close.

"... Michael..." Brian choked the name out, unaware that he'd feel this overwhelming emotion come over him. So much of this one feeling that he couldn't speak of it... it wasn't even allowing him to breath correctly. Brian kept shaking his head on the pillow, closing his eyes as he let the twin solid tears escape the corner of his eyes and fall into his hair.

Michael finally lifted his head again, brushing away the wetness, combing back Brian's honey strands. "... what?..."

"I'm none of those things you say..."

"No... no... no... no..." Michael punctuated every response of "no" with a sweet kiss to Brian's face.

Brian was weirdly smiling beyond the tears. "... wait... wait... you didn't let me finish."

Michael sniffled, nudging his face into Brian's hair. "I'm sorry... what else did you have to say?"

"I'm none of those things... without you..."

"Oh, Brian..." Michael wanted nothing more than to hold Brian in his arms... and he got his wish...

This time it was Brian's turn to stun Michael as he slid around to lay on his right side, facing Michael. He sunk lower then how Michael was laying, so he could settle his face into the center of Michael's chest, arms and legs tight about the tiny body.

"Don't let me go." Brian mumbled against Michael's chest, letting his pent-up, silent tears flow.

"Never." Michael was crying as he spoke these words against the soft strands of Brian's hair.

"Ever?" Brian wanted to hear the declaration... because he felt the same way about Michael.

"Promise." Michael crossed his arms around Brian's neck, locking his hands around his elbows. "... you're mine..." He whispered the words as if on a falling star, hoping someone above would hear him...

At least Brian did... "... as you are mine..." He reached down to pull up the blankets, snuggling with Michael beneath the piles of tangled sheets.

Then Michael took a chance, speaking words that overflowed in his heart. "... I love you..." He made it count by tenderly petting Brian's hair, like what a loving mother would do to her baby son... and Brian broke down completely in Michael's arms. Somewhere along the way he spoke the same words, too... but they were jumbled up in tears and sniffles... but Michael knew... he'd always known...

For Michael was not only Brian's home, but the safest place where he could truly be himself and not feel worthless or ashamed... he could even forget how sexually aroused he was because he knew what he'd truly need from Michael and that was to be loved... unconditionally...

 

 **  
~~TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Several Years Later...  
We Never Know When Death Will Shake Us... We Never Know How It Will Feel**_   

Michael couldn't believe how much clarity he had, how every bit of sadness he should be feeling for Uncle Vic was causing him to reminisce about he and Brian. How they met and came together. Why they were still together after all these years. He couldn't explain why, if anyone asked. And by now, at 34, Michael was plum tuckered from answering.

He curled up on his side, snuggling under the warm comforter and buried himself beneath a plush pillow. He wanted to block out light, all sounds... everything. He wished he could go numb, stop tearing up at the slightest bit of misery, but things were still floating on the surface for him, untouchable to even his own hands.

There was only one person who could help... and he was avoiding Michael since Uncle Vic's funeral. Actually... since news of Uncle Vic's death reached him...

Brian was going through the motions, just like Michael. He never really... well, they both were doing the same thing. Simply shutting down when it came time to be in one another's presence. They didn't know what to do, both having other people in their lives who could, very well, take their places, but neither one fitting the bill. They were both wrong, as always.

Ben was fine, Michael had no complaints. He just wasn't Brian.

Ben had his own mortality to deal with. Michael supposed Ben looked at it as if the HIV+ world lost another soldier to the long fought battle, making his own life that much more poignant. Michael simply saw it as losing a father, a really good friend and someone who was always "there" for him, no matter what. There was an ache he couldn't quell, a missing piece of who he was. He knew without a doubt, Brian was feeling the same.

Ben tried to be there for Michael, but it was tough, realizing he wasn't enough, that he had something missing Michael desperately needed. An understanding of WHO Vic Grassi was to both Michael and Brian. So Ben backed away, allowing Michael space and room to breathe. Maybe not a good idea, but Michael had often done the same for Ben, without much complaining. Ben was only returning the favor. Michael would eventually come out when he needed to, Ben knew that for a fact.

Ben walked up to the open doorway. "Babe... I'm leaving." He hooked his backpack over his shoulders, making sure his bicycle gloves were on snug to his fingers. He'd already zipped up his jacket and put on his cap and scarf.

Michael sighed, rolling over onto his back. His face popped up from beneath the pillow. "... have a good day..." He mumbled, tucking himself back in the depths of clean cotton and linens. Felt so cozy and nice to be lazy, owning your own business and choosing when you could be open. Every day could be a "snow day".

"Are you...?" Dumb question, but Michael had plenty of "late days" with Red Cape Comics, especially since Vic's untimely passing.

"No. Not today..." Michael closed his eyes and cuddled his pillow to his face to mutter under his throat. "... or ever again..." It wasn't as if the world would crumble if Michael Novotny didn't open his comic book store.

"Huh?" Ben wasn't sure he heard that last portion.

"What?" Michael lifted his head, resting back on his elbows, face fully visible.

"You said... something..."

"Oh..." Michael let his eyes roam about his bedroom. "It was nothing."

"You sure?" Ben made it seem like he'd dropped everything to spend the day with Michael, if he wanted him to. If he'd only ask, but that wasn't Michael's way for anything. " 'Cause I can cancel..." Christ! A lot of disappointed students would be hauling his ass into the Dean's office if he did, but he had to send the offer out, to show how much he truly DID care.

Michael scrunched his face up in a disgusted grimace. "Why the hell... would you do a stupid thing like that? During mid-terms?"

Holy shit!? So Michael WAS aware, just freezing out certain things. Well, that was a slight relief. "Michael..."

"What?" Michael stuffed the pillow behind his head, leaning back to look directly into Ben's face, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm fine. Go to work. I'll be okay."

Ben doubted that, but... whatever. Michael was his own person, a grown man whom he loved dearly. He'd know what was best... maybe. "Call me if you need..." He was going to say "me", but he wasn't sure that was what Michael truly needed or wanted. "... anything." That covered a whole helluva lot.

"I won't... but... I will, if I do..." Michael twiddled his thumbs, waiting for Ben to shut his door. When he kept staring, Michael stuffed himself back under everything.

As Michael finally heard the tick-tick-tick of Ben's bicycle wheels, then the slam and locking of the front door... he shut his eyes, letting out an exhale of breath in sweet exhaustion. Jesus... it took so much out of him simply to talk to someone these days. NOT a good sign.

"Thank God."

FINALLY... some peace and quiet... and maybe another full hour or so of uninterrupted sleep...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
 _ **Liberty Diner...  
Life Is Fragile, Love Is Pure... We Can't Hold On, But We Try...**_

Brian was seated at the Diner counter, waiting patiently on his TO GO order. Emmett and Ted were sitting next to his immediate right. Debbie was ignoring Brian at every turn, though filling his food order. Everyone was talking over Brian's head or around him, which was fine, he was used to this cold shoulder treatment.

Usually Brian would blatantly ignore the swill of conversation, because the topic generally bored him, but not this time. They were discussing Michael and it was interesting how differently each person perceived Michael's way of dealing with his grief. Kind of perplexing to find that they could sit and commiserate about Michael but yet... not make any effort, whatsoever, to put their complaining into action. Emmett found trying to talk with Michael as if he were an iceberg, closed-off and chilled to the core. Ted thought Michael was coping exceptionally well, but needed to go out more. And Debbie... well, she found little pinpoints of criticism to pick on Michael about, per normal.

Strange how even Michael's own family and close friends couldn't agree on his mood of late. Funny thing was... Brian DID know. He knew the truth, by simply looking at Michael that day he came over to the Novotny house... the only time the two best friends really hugged, before Ben stepped in. Though Brian had barely seen much of Michael, hadn't even had a moment to grieve properly with him as Ben kept strolling up, all macho-manly, like he could "fix" all that was broken or breaking inside Michael. Brian wished him well, it was tough... Michael wasn't an easy person to handle like most thought.

Ben didn't know shit about Michael, but Brian let the moment slide, because Michael was being loved the way he always wanted to be. The way Brian couldn't... or wouldn't... uhm, shouldn't?

This was the aspect that Brian hated most about other men, men who became Michael's lovers or potential "boyfriends". When they didn't take the time needed to really know Michael; backwards and forwards, inside and out. When they backed away to give Michael space, what they were actually doing was pushing Michael further from them, allowing a wide enough gap for Brian to fit himself back in, that oh-so-comfy niche.

Brian attempted not to gripe, too much, but if a man truly loved another man... would he NOT move Heaven and Earth to know all that he could? To be everything? Why couldn't anybody do that for Michael? Why was it always Brian's "job" to swoop in and "save the day", even if he wasn't asked?

Brian didn't feel comfortable meddling this time. The subject was too sensitive, too caustic and real.

Finally, without hesitation, Debbie plopped the brown paper TO GO bag in front of Brian, on the counter, slamming the 20ounce coffee cup right next to the bag. "$8.23"

Brian handed Debbie the $10 he had stuffed inside his left palm, rolled up and in between his index and middle finger tips. "... keep the change..." Boy... talk about someone holding a grudge. All because of his comment about Vic in front of Debbie, when she smacked him right across the cheek. He wasn't going to force an apology out of her or try to make some lame excuse for his own mistake, but at least washing the moment away was kosher, if not what they usual did. Apparently not this time.

Brian had enough to deal with on his plate, dealing with his own life/death battle... then dealing with Vic's death, then trying to cover-up the whole scenario by making it seem like he took a trip somewhere FUN... not a hospital where they took out his possible cancerous testicle. Would they even want to know how he was doing on his chemo drugs and the radiation? Would anyone truly care?

Debbie noisily rang up the receipt, yanking around the bills and change in the drawer. "I don't need your fuckin' charity."

Brian put his hand up, shoving off the seat and counter space. ".. like I could give a shit..." If she was going to be mean and snappish to him, he could send it right back. He fixed his long coat as best he could and his scarf. He hadn't put his gloves back on, but the warm food and coffee was sprucing him right up.

"Don't I know it..." Debbie mumbled as she threw the change back into her drawer.

Brian had passed by the register counter, but turned around to face her again. "You gonna hate me for the rest of your god awful, pitiful life?" It took everything in him not to yell at her that HE almost died, too... and would she really miss him?

"I'm sure gonna try, kid." Debbie crossed her arms over her ample chest, smirking an evil grimace at Brian.

Brian set his items on the counter, taking the time now to reorganize his clothing as he felt the chilled breeze from outside, as other patrons came through the door. "Nothin' I can do to change your mind?" He softened his tone, hoping for some reprieve.

"Can you raise the dead? Bring back my baby brother?" Debbie knew it was the wrong thing to say when the whole diner went hush, Brian going pale and a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Brian didn't know how to respond. He found it weird. Everyone wanting the same thing, but all of them at one another's throats. How adult. Vic would be so damn proud of every single one of them. Picking up his coffee and bag, with his leather gloves on, Brian leaned over the counter, toward Debbie. "Hate me all you want, Deb... I'll still fuckin' care about you..." With that said, Brian turned his back on everyone. He swiveled to use his backside to hold open the door as it jangled. "God knows Vic knew how to do THAT perfectly!" He let a line of people in, then was gone with the close of the door.

Kind of fitting to find it cold outside, since it was even colder inside.

Brian hunched himself into his body frame as he walked through the throngs of pedestrians coming toward him, he was going the opposite direction to where the 'Vette was parked. He made his way closer, nearing a bike rack... and if his day couldn't get any shittier... he noticed Benjamin throwing a muscular leg over, climbing off his bicycle seat, moving the front bike wheel to chain to the metal piping.

Ben bent to his knees to undo his wheel and a foot pedal to take with him, in case someone wanted to steal his ugly bike.

Brian couldn't help but laugh, letting the steam from his coffee cup filter about his face. He could almost feel his nose and ear lobes become redder. "You know... they have these new fangled things... they call them, uh... cars... and they get us Planet Earth dwellers places quicker... and all we have to do is LOCK our doors, from potential thieves who want all our good shit." He leaned on a newspaper box, close by his own classic automobile.

Ben was frowning while he was on the ground, then as he stood he gave Brian the once-over. He caught sight of Brian's brown bag. Great! Another one... wanting to be alone. Ben shook his head, thinking how odd that sometimes he found Brian and Michael doing the same thing, like being the same person, almost. "You leaving?" Ben hefted the wheel in his grasp, throwing the bike pedal in his backpack.

"You care?" Brian lifted a lone dark brown eyebrow in curiosity. Where was Michael? Why didn't Ben sleep in? Did the Love Bugs NOT share early mornin' lovin'... like he imagined?

"I wanted to..." Ben had hoped to be in time to sit down and have breakfast with The Group. If The Group would STOP separating. Ben got along with Emmett and Ted, but not THAT well. He felt like they held it against him that he kept having to figure Michael out, like he didn't just... KNOW everything... like Brian did. Ben sighed, leaning the bike wheel on his leg. He was putting his gloves back on. "I'm worried about Michael." How did he discuss this with Brian, without sounding like a pathetic loser boyfriend?

Brian took a sip of his coffee, needing more warmth or he'd freeze his face solid. "Take him to a free clinic. They're great about VDs and STDs. They have creams for those kind of things. Pills, even. The crabs should die off in about a week. And you..." He pointed his index finger toward Ben's chest. "... need to stay away from hustlers, backrooms and gay baths." He flourished his arms out, even with the coffee and paper bag in his hands. "There... all better... Doctor Kinney is O-U-T... OUT!"

Ben knew this would be difficult to approach Brian with, asking Brian to help him with Michael. Ben was on his last straw, unable to know what to do next or where to turn. "Please... I need you to be serious, for once..."

"I CAN be serious." Brian gave Ben his "serious" face.

Ben tightened his lips together, then spoke. "I don't think Michael's doing alright. He's not dealing with Vic's passing."

Brian felt like giving Ben one of Debbie's "swats" upside his head. "Who isn't?"

Ben wanted to say HE was doing fine, but then again he didn't know Vic all that well. Brian might not take that comment the right way. "Brian... I don't..."

"Look... Vic... he was like a father to Michael." Brian used one hand to hold both coffee and food, using his empty hand to "talk" with. "More than a father, in some ways. How do YOU think he should feel?" He squinted his eyes over at Ben, wondering what was going on in that pretty vapid blond head.

"Michael has let go of Vic, in a way, since the funeral... but I'm not sure he's..." Ben looked off to the side, hoping Brian could just read between the lines. "... coping with everything else going on around him."

Brian bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making another smart remark. "Debbie being a HUGE sliver of that 'everything'..." He knew HE wasn't helping any, either.

Ben crossed his arms over his chest, quite shocked. "So you HAVE been aware?"

"Yes, Professor SmartAss... I'm ALWAYS aware..." Though many people thought Brian didn't give a shit about anything.

Ben wrinkled his forehead in befuddlement, then shrugged. "Why haven't you done something about it?"

Brian couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Typical, yes... but had Ben simply told him he should've been watching Michael 24/7? Ohhhhh... now Brian had a good reason to be pissed off. No wonder Michael was floundering around, like a chicken with his head cut off. "... because at SOME point it's NOT MY job anymore to take care of YOUR boyfriend." He noticed Ben swallow hard at that point. "Isn't there something in all your ZEN-Buddha teachings and spiritual bullcrap you can use on him? Some hoo-doo VooDoo ritual to smoke out dead souls and restless ghosts?"

Ben hated when Brian made fun of his religious beliefs. "My beliefs are my own. Buddhism, for me, is a very solitary... private moment. I don't harp it on people when it's not their 'thing'. Surely not when they truly don't understand the ways of the scriptures."

Brian was flabbergasted by this knowledge. Why couldn't Ben just "teach" Michael? What was so wrong or awful about doing that for him? "Not even if it's someone you love? You'd let Michael... suffer?" That was a really frightening thought. It unsettled Brian in so many ways.

"No. Of course not. If I'm aware there's someone who already knows Michael... what's the harm in letting them try first?"

Brian was stunned, completely... utterly stunned. "Boy... you really don't have a clue?" He had to laugh or scream bloody murder.

"About?"

"Never mind." Brian pinched the skin between his eyebrows. "I have to go. Day full of client meetings and multi-million dollar deals that need my attention." He didn't like knowing ANY of this right now. He slid between his front bumper and the back fender of the car in front of the 'Vette.

Ben still wouldn't quit. "So... can I count on you... or not?" He hadn't gotten a straight answer from Brian.

Brian stuck the key in the door lock, setting bag and coffee cup on the roof. "You put the offer on the table, Bruckner..." Which was blowing Brian's ever-loving mind away. "... you've left it up to me, I'll do what I damn well please when it concerns Michael." He opened his door, slipping the bag onto the passenger seat, then placing the coffee cup into the holder. He popped his head back out. What in the hell was Benjamin thinking? "I have your blessing to handle the situation, so let's pray you're right... an' you're not too fuckin' late..." Brian put his right leg in first.

Ben paced up to the side of the Corvette, wheel in his hand again. "I gather that's a KINNEY version of a ' ** _Yes. You CAN count on me'_**?"

Brian grasped the door paneling with his left hand. "Take it however you want. You've invited me back into your relationship... an' I have to wonder if you actually know what you're doing."

Ben did, he really and truly did. He bit his bottom lip, faking a smile. "If it helps Michael... I'm all for it." He couldn't believe Brian wouldn't give him a definitive YES or NO... he simply turned his back on him. He saw Brian about to dip his body into the driver's seat. "... BRIAN!!..." Ben couldn't believe he was going to say this... out loud... in public... "I'm pretty sure it's YOU that Michael needs..." There... would that get Brian motivated?

Brian smirked, averting his eyes down, then shook his head in sadness as he climbed into the 'Vette and started the ignition.

 _Oh, Mikey... Mikey... Mikey... when will they ever learn?_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brian couldn't stand it anymore. There was a clicking pen somewhere around this huge table, echoing during the client meeting, and it was annoying the fuck out of him. He spun his chair around, rubbing his hand over his lower jaw and chin, pushing out of the plush leather. He wandered over to where Cynthia was seated. Along the way he'd taken out his cell phone, scrolling through his CALL IN list, attempting to figure out when he'd talked to Michael last... Michael calling HIM. Brian discovered that one particular call, a day or two before Michael's very last voicemail, was tagged as NOT having been listened to. Ohhhh... crap!

Cynthia was a little shocked to sense the looming shadow of Brian's tall frame over her, then even more stunned when he bent to one knee, right next to the left arm of her chair. He simply leaned into her ear, telling her he had an "emergency" that needed his immediate attention. Certainly not life or death, but... Cynthia already knew what Brian meant.

Brian had been in quite a stupor for awhile now. Michael's Uncle Vic's passing seemed to have done a number on him. She'd told him to take a few days off, even when he came back from his "trip", but he wouldn't listen to her. As far as Cynthia knew, Brian hadn't called or talked to Michael in a long time, familiar with how frazzled and crazed he'd get if he didn't stay in contact constantly.

Brian left Cynthia in charge. They knew they had the client in the palm of their hands. Brian trusted Cynthia implicitly.

All Brian grabbed was his coat, not even his scarf or gloves. He just bolted. A few employees turned their heads as they watched their boss run out, wondering if everything was okay. When Brian got inside the 'Vette, seated behind the wheel, letting the engine idle, he played Michael's missed voicemail...

There was initial silence... you could barely hear Michael breathing, then complete quiet... no sound, nothing... and then a bit of a choked sob... sniffles... a little laugh, coupled with a few parting words... _ **"... i'm sorry... i can't do this..."**_ and CLICK!... Michael hung up...

Jesus Christ! How long had THAT been sitting on his phone?

Brian roughly shifted gears for reverse, backing out of his designated parking spot. He peeled out of the parking lots, squealing his tires, almost gunning the gas pedal to 50mph...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael couldn't stand it anymore. Even the quiet was too noisy. Maybe noise would drown out the unrest in his head. So he picked up his pillow and some blankets and decided to curl up on the sofa, falling face down on top of all those decorative pillows already splayed out. He reached for the remote on the coffee table, turning on the television.

Morning TV sucked. Nothing but news, news magazines,and entertainment news... any kind of news in all sorts of formats. Depressive and boring... uninteresting bullshit. He decided that maybe he'd check out the specialty channels, like Discovery Channel, or Court TV or Food Network. Something drone-worthy to just make him go numb and fall asleep.

He came up to ESPN and... not to think anybody above, in Heaven, was watching... but somehow they had soccer on. Michael gave out a gentle smile of comfort, placing the remote under his belly as he snuggled into the array of pillows under him now. Brian had looked so good playing soccer for their high school team. Michael recalled those days when he'd sit on the bleachers and cheer Brian on, watching him score goal... after goal... after goal. Which was interesting because televised soccer lacked a little bit of verve that would've kept his eyes glued on the TV. Instead, it made him shut his eyes and fall back into slumber... dreaming of Brian in his soccer uniform... all succulent and sweaty... Mmm, nice...

Michael woke up to the front door being opened, keys jangling and shoes scuffing the hardwood flooring. He was facing the back of the couch, buried under his blankets. He was too drowsy to open his eyes fully... until he saw who was standing at the back of his couch.

"Brian...?" Michael flipped over, facing the TV. He picked up the remote to turn the volume down. He felt like he'd been found out by his mother, whenever Brian found him slacking the day away. "What are you...?" He glanced at the wall clock and his wrist... that had no watch. He scratched at the skin to hide his mistake.

Brian sat on the side of the left arm rest, then swung his legs over to slide down into the cushions. Michael bent his legs at the knees to give Brian room to sit. "Oooo... Lithuania and Czech Republic..." He grabbed for the remote, turning the volume back up. "... this should be good..." He nodded, then pointed at the screen as he loosened his tie. Brian reached under Michael's sheets to catch him by the ankles, placing them across his lap. He slipped out of his loafers, swinging his right leg up along the couch, stretching his left leg out, under the coffee table.

Michael was bit rattled by Brian's arrival, not sure if they'd made some arrangement or something. "Did I forget...?" He gestured between their chests. It was a commercial break, Brian wasn't watching the TV.

Brian shook his head, soothing his hand along Michael's ankle and the portion of his calf showing under the pajama pant leg. He tucked his hand under the soft flannel. "Nah... long lunch break..."

"You hungry?" Michael hadn't eaten anything, either. He was kind of hungry... if Brian was.

Brian turned to look into Michael's face. "You look tired, Mikey."

Michael jutted his chin out in Brian's direction. "So do you? How was Ibiza?" He sat up now, curious to hear all the gory, specific details... all the Fuck and Frolic.

"Hot." Brian said the word to mean literally and figuratively.

"Was it fun, though? That's the whole reason for going." Michael grabbed onto the back of the couch to fully sit up, with pillows at his back. He managed to keep his feet on Brian's lap, feeling Brian's fingers start to massage the soles.

"When do I NOT have F-U-N, Mikey." Brian made a mild grimace. "It was... good times."

Michael squinted his eyes, frowning. "You don't look like you got any sun." He noticed that Brian appeared even paler then usual. "You okay?"

Brian stared at the TV screen, pretending to be enraptured by soccer. It was tough to manage, being here... alone with Michael... so much between them, secrets being kept and hidden. Especially when Michael was moving... moving to come closer to his side. The couch wasn't long enough, Brian had absolutely no time to collect himself before he had an arm full of Michael Novotny. Michael climbed into his lap, stretching out with Brian's right leg, snuggling into the long neck, playing with the knot of the tie as he rid Brian of the expensive silk. It looked like Brian was watching TV, but he was really watching Michael fold his tie up, to place the material in a nice pile on the coffee table.

Michael unbuttoned the first two buttons of Brian's shirt, just to expose his throat and a little of his collar bone. Michael scraped the back of his fingers over the veins, bones and muscles, laying down to rest his cheek on Brian's left shoulder. He found Brian's right hand and hugged it to his chest. "I missed you." He had... he did... he always did. Even more now with Vic gone. Michael bent Brian's arm at the elbow, making his forearm turn to face palm out. He pressed his own right hand into Brian's, threading their fingers. He settled back down on a sigh and blinked his eyes closed, comfortable in knowing Brian was here, for awhile.

Brian didn't move for the first few minutes of Michael being in his lap. Not only was it unnerving, but he just had too much to say to him to waste the time away with sleep. Words had to be said to let Michael know what had happened to him. He knew Michael would possibly be angry with him, for not telling him of his cancer scare. Brian would've loved to have had Michael with him, as support, but... there was too much already with Uncle Vic and then Debbie going bananas to celebrate Christmas in July.

Brian huffed out a chuckle, glancing down to see if Michael opened his eyes. He didn't, falling deeper into slumber. By instinct, Brian leaned his jaw on Michael's brow, turning slightly to kiss the soft skin. The brush of silky hair to Brian's cheek made him close his eyes, bringing his left hand up to sift fingers through Michael's wavy curls. The fingertips ventured down, falling around Michael's shaved hairline and the nape. Michael snuggled further into Brian's chest, letting go of his right hand, then throwing his own left arm around Brian's torso, tucking under his right arm pit. Brian gathered Michael closer to him, along with the linen he was cocooned in. He continued watching Czech Republic whip Lithuanian's ass all around the soccer field, wishing he had strength enough to carry Michael to bed.

Some days Brian barely had enough stamina to walk out of the loft... to even get out of bed. Somehow in some way... Michael was always IN his head, telling him he would make it, he'd survive... just liked he'd made it out alive from his father's house.

That thought alone... of Michael being with him, inside him... as he'd been in surgery at John Hopkins... caused Brian to wrap his arms snuggly about Michael, locking his fingers together and placing his head on Michael's face and hair. Shutting his eyes to sleep wasn't something he decided to do... it's what the medicine forced him to do...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael startled awake when tennis came on. Women's tennis, because they were squeaking and moaning as they batted the tennis ball over the netting. It didn't sound right to Michael's ears. He searched for the remote control, not seeing it anywhere on the coffee table. Then he recalled Brian was the last one to have it, Brian never put it back where it was visible, always hiding it away, somewhere along his body.

So Michael ran a hand over, and under, Brian's right thigh and butt cheek, between his own legs, then shuffled about to slide his hand between Brian and the couch armrest, feeling up on the left side. To which Brian lifted his head from it's awkward resting position on the back of the couch and stared at Michael.

"Can I... HELP... you?" Brian raised a curious eyebrow. Was Michael trying to get "fresh" with him? In his sleep?

"Yeah... where did you put the remote?!" Michael even threw off the blankets, thinking the object got tangled in the folds.

"Your fingers are broke? And so are your legs? You can't walk up to the TV and switch the channels?" Brian knew Michael remembered the days when they didn't have remote controls.

"I was comfy. I'm not gonna move if I'm comfy. I know you had it last." On a whim, Michael stuck his hands between Brian's thighs and found out where the remote had been shoved. "... Brian..."

"What?" Brian feigned massive innocence, looking anywhere but AT Michael.

Michael turned the TV off, using Brian's legs as his chair. He put the remote on the coffee table, then rolled up his blankets and snatched up the pillows. "C'mon... let's make ourselves some lunch." He threw everything on his bed, not caring if it was made or how messy the floor was, littered with clean and dirty laundry.

Brian found he needed a few minutes, his body not what it used to be. "What are we having?" He played around, throwing his head back dramatically on the couch cushion, covering up his real listlessness.

Michael smirked, thinking how cute Brian looked, sleep tousled and groggy. "Do you still have your soccer uniform?"

Brian went still, not understanding where Michael was going with this strange line of questioning. "From high school?"

"Yeah."

"No. Why?" Brian was afraid to ask.

"No reason." Michael waved the comment away as if he didn't need to know. "You hungry-hungry or just munchie-hungry?" Then he realized something. "What'd you have for breakfast?"

"Bagel, cream cheese, English muffin, butter... coffee..." Brian groaned as he hefted his tall frame off the couch. Thankfully, Michael had turned into the kitchen as Brian felt a little woozy, having to gain his balance. He sat back down, to take off his silk socks, throwing them to add to his tie pile. Brian unbuttoned his shirt, too, pulling the bottom hem out of his trousers. Christ... he was a bit overdressed, wasn't he? "Hey..." Brian looked over his shoulder, catching sight of Michael fiddling about in the kitchen. "... do you mind if I change?"

Michael peeked his head around the wall, quirking an eyebrow up. "Into what?" Then he simply giggled as he stepped back inside the tiny alcove.

Brian couldn't help but chuckle, too. He DID feel a little like Clark Kent undressing to change into Superman... well, the Cancer Free, One Less Testicle Superman, who'd had a dose of radiation a week ago and took his chemo drugs like the doctor ordered. Brian was shrugging out of his button-down shirt on his way into Michael's bedroom. He immediately paused when he realized he couldn't go far, without tripping and falling ass down on the carpet.

How the hell did Michael live here... with Ben, too? AND Hunter?

Somehow he could figure out Ben didn't throw everything around the room, like Michael did. Plus, all the clothes Brian was finding surely would never fit Professor Pecs of Steel. Maybe just Ben's thigh, when it wasn't flexing. Michael was so god damn tiny... it was freakishly adorable. Brian kicked his way to safety on the bed, realizing something pretty profound as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

All this time... this time of backing away and being alone, even though he had Justin in his life... why was it only when he was actually here, with Michael, that it hit him how much he truly DID need him? ... like air to breathe? Or, even now... his cancer drugs to stay alive, in remission?

Brian stood up to undo his belt and trousers, then sat back down to slide them down his long legs. He folded them up and placed them beside his hip, with his shirt, hoping Michael's messiness didn't swallow his nice clothes. He went over to Michael's closet, knowing exactly what to look for. Even though he didn't recognize half the wardrobe, since Ben moved in, Brian was still able to spot the fabrics Michael had kept of Brian's own clothing. Brian didn't exactly "fit" Michael's size anymore. At 16, probably on the exact date of his sixteenth birthday, Brian had sprouted like a young seedling, growing several inches taller then Michael. He'd filled out in other areas, as well, almost making Michael feel like a dweeb. Michael's growth was gradual... in fact, he was still in that same process, even in maturing to age 34.

Jesus Christ... 34... next year... 35... in five years... 40... man, oh, man... Brian was going to make Michael pay for keeping him alive, feeling young and beautiful. He pulled down the jeans, then moved to sit on the bed. He wasn't sure he could stand and put them on, like he used to be able to do. His equilibrium was fucked, well beyond fucked, actually, making him feel older then his real age... which was always 25.

Brian chuckled, swiping a hand over his face. He knew the drugs made him giddy these days, laughing for no reason, all by his lonesome.

"Hey... you gonna clean my room for me?" Michael lean on the second door, cocking his hip on the frame, then bending his right leg, planting his foot into his left ankle.

"No... you have a boyfriend who can do that for you. I'm just here for the leftovers."

Michael folded his arms over his belly. "Why ARE you here, Brian?"

Brian stood up to button the jeans, then sat back down, grabbing the sides of the bed, near his knees. "I dunno... I guess I missed you, too..." He was going to try to hold out on standing while Michael was here. He lifted his head to look across at Michael's dresser and found himself mesmerized by a frame on the surface. "Holy Christ!" He was able to get to his feet without any trouble.

Michael was on alert, just by the sound of Brian's shrill. "What?"

"I forgot he was there..." Brian stood in front of the dresser, picking up the picture frame. "... all I remember was you... and I, but I just..."

Michael wandered over, faint of a grin playing off his lips whenever he thought about Vic, since his passing. He always got a huge lump in his throat that made him have this inability to say much, just... feel. Brian was turned enough to the side that Michael simply fit himself under his right arm, leaning his head on the strong shoulder. "... he's like that, you know... there, but not... always..."

Brian almost choked as he rubbed his thumb over the image of Vic hugging both of his favorite boys, Brian and Michael. Brian's right arm tightened about Michael's neck. "... he still is..." Brian buried his face in Michael's hair, kissing the area and closing his eyes. What would Michael do to know Vic had visited him while he battled his cancer all alone? Shit... Brian hadn't even told Michael he'd had cancer. Christ... he was fucked, for sure!

Michael was the first to turn, hands frantic in grabbing every stretch of cotton fabric over Brian's torso at his back, tucking his face into Brian's chest. Brian replaced the frame, then secured both arms about Michael's neck and head. They stood like that, just simply breathing together, feeling each other's hearts beating... both not wanting to cry.

Michael was the first to pull away, since he was cooking the food in the kitchen. He kept his head bowed, sniffling, then escaped. Brian stood where he was left, one arm around his mid-chest, aching so badly just to say... something to Michael, but unable to. He didn't even know if he'd ever speak of what he'd suffered, just to watch Michael suffer with him. He wouldn't do that... couldn't do that to Michael. Scraping one hand under his left eye, glancing down quickly to Vic's image, paired with theirs... Brian exited the bedroom and went to help Michael set the table, like they always did for one another, whomever cooked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Brian didn't know how they managed it. Being able to have a meaningful conversation without really touching on ANY of the more important issues. Well... "meaningful" to them, because of their history together. He was shocked he actually ate, since his stomach generally didn't like to keep down much food anymore. Maybe it was the company he kept, of always feeling happiness when Michael was near, like a will to live and having a viable future. Just to see Michael's smile one day more...

Michael caught Brian relaxing back in the chair, gazing oddly toward him. "What?"

"What- _what_?" Brian mimicked back at Michael.

"The way you're looking at me..."

"... is the way I always look at you." Brian shrugged one shoulder, picking up the fruit juice bottle to sip.

"No... it isn't." Michael shook his head, seated on his leg, and arm bent, chin resting on hand. "... reminds me off those nights you came over to my house..."

"... when I couldn't stand mine any longer." Brian leaned forward, forearms resting on the table surface, next to his plate.

"Do you think about him?"

"Who? Jack?"

"Yeah... do you?"

"Am I crazy if I do?"

"No. You're pretty sane to me." Michael sat forward, too, somewhat near to Brian's face. "I dreamt about us this morning."

"You dream... of me?" Brian put a hand to his chest, as if he were shocked.

"Of both of us, jerk!" Michael shoved Brian's shoulder joint. "When we were younger, you know... just becoming what we are today..."

Brian wrinkled his brow in fake confusion. "WHAT ARE WE... TODAY?"

"Well..." Michael stretched out his right arm, fingertips lowering down onto Brian's skin. He was almost mirroring the moment from 20years ago. "... I'm still you..."

Brian brought his right hand over to lay on top of Michael's hand on his arm. "... and I am still you..." He remembered that day, as well. He'd never forget it, he never forgot any day or moment with Michael. They were etched and burned into his memory.

"I'm not..." Michael lifted his left hand to place over Brian's right. They had a cool chain of hands going. "... I'm not..." He shook his head, unsure if he could actually admit this without the tears. He knew how Brian felt about him crying. "I know he's gone..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I do know this... I found him... I felt him..." Michael sensed Brian's hands tighten about his grip. "... he was dead before I got there..." He pulled out his right hand to cover his quivering lips.

"Oh... fuck!" Brian tugged on Michael's hands to get him to crawl back into his lap.

"I'm sorry..." Michael simply tucked his face beside Brian's as he allowed himself to be held... hugged. "I'm not doing this right."

"Who knows how to grieve perfectly? I sure don't." Brian knew once he got with Michael, at some point... and they were alone... they'd both cry and let it all go.

Michael cupped the back of Brian's head, then slid his arms to enclose about the slim neck. "I'm trying, you know... to be strong... not just for myself, but for Ma..." He shook his head, his voice cracking as he realized how shitty of a job he did on that end.

Brian knew Michael would feel guilty. Debbie was always good for that. "It's not your job, Michael... to take care of everyone... not when you neglect yourself."

Michael drew away, peering down into Brian's averted face. He raised his hand to smooth down Brian's cheek. "That's where you were supposed to come in..."  

Brian knew they screwed that up, but Ben... HE was supposed to be capable of filling in THAT position. "I know. I'm a slacker."

"No. You love me an' you care about me an' who I love... an' that was never more apparent then when you stepped back to let Ben take over." Michael leaned his forehead on Brian's temple, soothing his hand down Brian's face, along his neck, then bringing the fingers back into his hair. "But... he'll never be YOU, Brian..."

"No... no, he won't..." Brian cleared his throat, feeling very, very uneasy. His hand was shaping around Michael's right hip, smoothing up and down his leg, over the flannel material. Michael was shifting his body, moving to straddle him in the chair. "... Michael..." Now he had a good solid grip of Michael's hips, almost prepared to glide along his bottom, if he wanted.

".. huh?..." Michael rested his forearms on Brian's shoulders, staring down into Brian's curious features, the way Brian watched his body fidget and settle over his lap.

Brian raised his head, feeling Michael's fingers comb back his bangs. Their eyes connected, hazel staring into brown, transfixed and drowning... "Would you like to kiss me?"

Michael scooted upward, sliding his body to mesh with Brian's abdomen and groin. He wondered if Brian recalled the words he'd said to him that night. "... yes... I think so..." Michael wasn't sure what they were doing, where they were going with this. Brian seemed alright with him kissing him, so Michael dipped and met the open mouth, never expecting the slow, sensuous play of lips on his from Brian.

Brian paused momentarily, eyes catching Michael's worried gaze. "I hope you don't mind... I'm kissin' you back..." He was speaking against Michael's lips, tasting his smile.

"Good idea... saves time..." Michael raised both eyebrows, as he crossed his arms and reached for the hem of his t-shirt to pull over his head. Letting the soft fabric dangle off his hands, Michael bent low again to ravage Brian's mouth, biting and munching.

Brian's hand found its way around to cup Michael's ass. "Whoa... you've gotten better..."

"... asshole..."

"... _c'est moi_?..." Brian played well at being outraged.

"Yes, you..." Michael was chuckling, reaching out to caress Brian's face, meshing their brows together. He grabbed for Brian's hands and placed them on his chest, letting HIM decided where he wanted to roam. Michael loved how Brian used to play with his nipples and touch his chest, when they were younger, even when Michael didn't know that he was getting aroused. Well, now... he KNEW... and that's exactly what Brian did for him. Not only his thumbs, but every single finger, then his palm. Soon Brian shaped his hands around Michael's flanks and pulled him toward his chest, his mouth now, searching the pert nubs out. He suckled and licked while Michael tangled his hands in his hair, scraping his fingers and nails over and across Brian's shoulder blades.

Brian pushed them both to sit upright, off the back of the chair. He reached for the hem of his tank-t and yanked the fabric over his head, throwing it off onto the floor, under the table.

Somehow... Brian didn't think this was the kind of "help" Ben meant for him to give Michael... but... ahhhh, hell... who gave a fuck about Ben, with Michael naked and panting for him like that...

Brian sat back down, yanking Michael to his chest. "... oh, gawd..." Strange to feel the surge of sensation of skin on skin, nipples skimming flesh. He cupped Michael's neck, sliding around to his nape. "... kiss me... please..."

Michael not only kissed him again, he gave him his tongue.

A power was coming over Brian, one that he'd thought lost since he'd gotten sick. He hadn't really been in the mood, much lately, for sex... finding that maybe it wasn't the right person to bring him back into his groove. This time spent with Michael could help them both, without Michael even knowing.

Michael shaped his hand around Brian's chin, under cupping his jaw to turn his head one way and keep it steady. "... Brian..."

"... yeah?..." Brian cautiously asked of Michael, not sure if this was his best friend or some sexy, desirable stranger.  
   
"... would you like to go to my bedroom...?" Michael hoped Brian remembered those were similar words that got him in his bed and under his covers the first time.

"... I thought you'd never ask..." Brian stood, faltering a bit with the added extra weight of Michael almost toppling him over. But he was able to sit Michael on the table top, then balance himself without a problem. "... sorry..."

Michael snickered, shaking his head. He lowered his legs, prepared to have Brian carry him around his waist, but they weren't kids anymore or lightweights. Michael slid down onto the floor and bent to pick up their t-shirts.

Clothing strewn around the kitchen would surely signify to curious eyes that something went down... but clothes thrown on Michael's already messy floor would hide the mystery.

Brian watched Michael walk away, stepping into the early afternoon sunlit bedroom. It was only one o'clock. Not quite a "nooner", but close. As Brian tentatively approached the open bedroom door, he gripped the closed paneling, poking his head around. He watched Michael cleaning up a bit, making neater piles, clearing off the bed and straightening the rumpled sheets. Michael threw pillows and puffed them, then he pulled back the comforter and sheets... stunned for a minute to be doing what he was doing, but then he turned to see Brian leaning back on the door.

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" This time... Michael wasn't asking out of real innocence, he was pretending like he hadn't a clue what Brian could mean.

Brian scratched at his chest, smirking and shaking his head, loving the way Michael could or couldn't be telling the truth. Brian knew, though. "... this is getting very deja vu here..."

Michael was taking off his flannel pajama pants, leaving only his tight undershorts on. The impressive bulge was prominent. "I hope... not everything..." Michael stuck his fingers in between his skin and the elastic, stretching and pulling around his waist, tempting Brian to ask him to go completely "commando". The bed was bigger now, so when Michael climbed on top of the mattress, he actually had a side he could choose to sleep on. He moved all the way to the right, where Ben usually slept, leaving Brian his slot.

Brian wasn't sure this was a good idea, but hey... not going to complain much with Michael so willing and Ben just about giving him the stamp of approval to do anything he had to for Michael to be better. As Brian walked closer, approaching the side of the bed he knew Michael slept on... he grew hesitant. Not because of fear, but because he'd had this fantasy... a fantasy born long ago when he wanted Michael to look at him as sexy... gorgeous... find him worthy and beautiful.

So Brian stopped, about a good six inches from the mattress, and he unbuttoned the jeans one at a time... catching Michael's wide fascinated eyes.

Michael was laying on his left side, legs half hidden under the blankets, but one leg, the right, drawn up to hide his erection. Brian wasn't aware, but he was back lit by pure sunlight, so his shape was glowing, making him look ethereal and the closest thing to heaven Michael would ever touch.

Brian slid his hands over his backside, between denim and cotton, then dropped the jeans, letting them fall mid-thigh before he reached out to grip the nightstand for balance. Difficult to keep your cool aura when it felt like you were teetering on your feet. Brian was able to get his jeans down far enough to kick them off his legs.

As Brian stepped near to the bed, Michael shuffled to his knees, waddling over to meet Brian, face to face. He was about to reach out with both hands to take Brian's fingers, but Brian shook his head, bashfully crossing his arms over his chest to lock his fingers over his shoulders. Brian had shut his lids, taking deep breathes. Michael dipped his head to try and catch Brian's eyes opening, but he seemed locked in some void, fighting for courage.

"Brian, what...?" Michael wanted to touch Brian, but he was almost afraid to... like Brian would scamper away. He frowned in deep concern.

"I need to do something..." Brian found his voice a little wobbly, scared. "... I need you to look at me... an' tell me what you see..."

Michael smirked, thinking Brian meant only his half-naked form, in underwear. Which was pretty easy to explain the sheer perfection in it, but Michael stopped his smile when he watched Brian fit his thumbs in the elastic waist of his briefs and, inch by slow inch, took down the soft cotton from over his own erection. Michael did look at the gloriously breathtaking display of manhood, but he was really more interested in the way Brian was reacting, anticipating his words.

Brian was obviously searching for something profound, like proof he wasn't just a sexual object. As if his body had beauty, yet value... or that he even had a heart that cared about what he DID look like to other people. Especially someone he loved above all others.

Michael reached Brian, almost nose to nose with him, kneeling on the bed. He truly didn't know what to say except to do action, with words, like he'd done when they were younger. "I see me... in you..." He reached out to caress the flat of his palm over Brian's chest, starting from upper beast bone, along the slim torso. "... you... in me... parts of us in each other, pieces of the people around us... I can't believe you're still here... with me..." The back of his hand slid down to rub over the pelvic bone and pubic hair. "... after all these years..." He swallowed, bending to kiss Brian's neck, keeping his face there as he talked on. "... we're still one person, though we've never been, truly... together..." He pushed his brow against Brian's collar, feeling Brian bend down to nudge his own head. Michael used both hands to sculpt around Brian's cock and balls "... I don't mean anything cruel when I say... I've never seen these as WHO you are to me..." He kissed a trail along the upper torso. "... you've become an even more incredible man then I once thought... you still don't know how much..." He shook his head, laughing at himself. "You still leave me in awe... with Gus..." His fingers lightly squeezed each testicle, feeling the smooth textures and the comparable sizes, where Brian had given life to his son...

Brian was growing a little weaker, throwing his forearms over Michael's shoulders, wanting to hear more... and more, whatever Michael had to give him. He also wanted that "touch", the one only Michael could give him that made him feel alive... loved... treasured... adored. He nuzzled his face in Michael's dark hair, feeling his throat fill with lumps, constricting.

"I've seen everything you do more then once, but every time you do it... I swear you bring me back to a time when I was just getting to know you... an' the things you did were cool and magical..." Michael's fingers trailed all the way back up to Brian's face, lifting the chin up. Hazel eyes hadn't even opened, still remained closed. "... I still don't want to hurt you... let anyone hurt you... even Justin..." Michael kissed the side of Brian's cheek, rubbing their faces together. "... but I know that's inevitable because no one, but me... knows how to take care of you..."

"... or love me..." Brian choked out on an exhale of air. "... the way you do..."

"I do."

"I know. I do, too." Brian finally slid his arms around Michael to embrace him like he'd been wanting to. He could tell the tears were somewhere behind what he was feeling now, one more button pushed... and he might be a goner.

Michael jumped off the bed, gesturing for Brian to lay down wherever he wished. As Brian sat on the side of the bed, swinging his legs up and over, Michael took off his own undershorts, then climbed back onto the bed. He watched Brian settle on his back, head against the pillows, dead center of the full mattress. Brian bent an arm behind his head, relaxing as he gripped Michael's shoulder to help him over his body.

Neither of them had any idea of what they'd do next, both completely naked and hard. Sex not really important as the closeness... the power of their bodies conforming as one skin, hearts as one blood.

Michael shifted to throw his left leg in between Brian's thighs, settling face down on Brian's front. Brian's cock squished between Michael's left hip and his stomach, Michael's cock flat to Brian's left thigh and his own abdomen. They didn't need the intercourse, right at the moment... could probably deal with some more kissing, but not now... they needed the silence and the calm of each other. How right it felt to be together, how perfectly their bodies fit.

They knew at any moment... they'd talk about Vic... they'd remind each other of better memories and they'd share anecdotal musings... and then they'd quiet and shed some tears of grief. They'd most likely kiss, wiping away each other's tears, because this was how they always were when they shared a loss as precious as this one...

Michael had been resting his cheek on Brian's upper chest, feeling fingers in his hair, twist and curl strands. He lifted his head to look up at Brian, watching Brian looked directly at him. He smiled, Brian touched the muscle that moved, wishing he could have that with him forever.

"Would you give me anything I asked of you?" Brian repeated those same words he'd said all those years ago.

Instead of speaking, Michael nodded his head, then kissed Brian soundly on the lips. "... whatever you want... is yours... as I am..." He let his hands slide up Brian's sides to grip his cheeks, playing along the shape of his lips. "... you've always been beautiful to me, but lately... you've become so breathtaking... especially now..." Michael didn't know if what he was saying was registering in Brian's head, but he noticed Brian reach the breaking point, so he stopped speaking.

Brian leaned up and kissed Michael into silence as passionately as he could muster, before he completely broke down in Michael's arms, wishing this could be his life... for always...

  
 **~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~THE END**


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